


Past Present

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate back story for Spike and his family. Written before Lies My Parents Told Me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Present

PRESENT

 

Spike descended the staircase, rubbing his eyes. “Evenin’, Niblet.”

 

“Hey, Spike. Sleep well?”

 

“Sleep of the dead, pet. Where’s big sis?” He sat on the couch, resting his stocking feet on the coffee table.

 

“Feet off. Buffy doesn’t like it.”

 

“Buffy isn’t here.” He picked up the newspaper from the table and flipped through. “Patrollin’?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Thought she was gonna wait for me.” He paused at a page, staring, turning paler than usual.

 

“She did, lazybones. Finally gave up. Said you could catch up.” She watched Spike drop the paper to the floor. “What’s wrong?”

 

His voice was quiet. “I have to go.” He slipped his shoes on at the door and left.

 

“What the?” Dawn picked up the opened paper, scanning the stories. One typical, typical enough for Sunnydale, caught her eye.

 

‘Serial killer strikes. The body of a presumed fourth victim of the murderer dubbed “The Heartless Killer” was discovered today in Riverside Park. Like the previous victims, the heart had been torn from the chest after the body was ex-sanguinated.

 

William Asher, 28, leaves his wife, Amanda, and daughter Laura, 2. All victims are young, white males named William. Police have yet to comment on this connection.

 

Asher, a computer salesperson...’

 

 

Buffy regretted her impatience. It was not that she feared patrolling alone, far from it. In fact, the night was too quiet. With Spike, she would have had someone to talk to. Not to mention other things.

 

So, she walked between the headstones, swinging her stake. Every few minutes she looked over her shoulder, to see if Spike were following. So far she’d been disappointed.

 

Suddenly, a large, unkempt vampire in a faded red t-shirt jumped out from behind a crypt. His teeth were crooked and stained with blood. He lunged at her, growling. She lifted her stake and he impaled himself on it, exploding into a cloud of dust.

 

“Gee, Spike,” she said out loud. “You’re missing all the fun.”

 

 

He didn’t know where to look, but he knew she was out there somewhere. He had no idea what she was doing in this country, or how she’d tracked him down, but he was sure it was about him. It was always about him. He was walking by an alley in the closed-for-the-night downtown core, when he smelled it. The scent of lavender. She stepped out of the shadows.

 

She hadn’t changed. Five foot four, a tad thick about the middle, dark hair shot with loose gray strands. She smiled, an unpleasant smile. “Hello, William.”

 

He sucked in a breath. It really was her, as he’d known it was.

 

“Hello, Mother.”

 

PAST

 

“Come on, William,” the tall vampire asked. “Who are you?”

 

“That’s for me to know,” the cocky fledgling smiled, “and you, well, not to.”

 

Angelus tired of Dru’s new recruit. He was brash, impertinent, unnecessary. He’d told Dru she could find a new playmate, but he hadn’t counted on this. “Wipe that grin off your face. It’s boring.”

 

“Yeah, well, this whole place is boring.” He reached out for Drusilla, who took his hand and laughed. “I need some action. Let’s go, luv.”

 

“My William wants to hunt?” she cooed.

 

“Yeah, now that sounds like fun.” With Dru at his side, he headed out the door.

 

“Don’t be callin’ any attention to us,” Angelus said as he left, but the sandy haired vampire waved his hand dismissively and was gone. “Huntin’,” Angelus said to himself. “Well, now, that does sound like fun.”

 

 

Angelus was an experienced stalker. In fact, following his victims was half the fun, darting in and out of shadows, giving them a feeling of disquiet but letting them think it was all in their minds. A figment of their imagination until, too late to run, they found his teeth in their throats. So much more entertaining to play with his food.

 

Would have saved him a lot of trouble if they’d been there when he rose. Most likely he’d been buried in the cemetery closest to the alley where Dru’d turned him, but no way to be sure. In any case, he and Darla’d been distracted at sundown, and Dru had shown up, the young idiot in tow. She claimed not to remember where she’d found him, and in her case it was possibly true. The game was wearing thin, watching Dru and William on the hunt, stalking the stalkers. He was thinking of heading for home.

 

Ah, there. A young man passed the couple, his eyes lingering a bit on the fledgling. Shaking his head, he walked down the road. Suddenly, Angelus was in front of him, threatening enough in his human face. “That man. You knew him. Who is he?”

 

“What?” The man trembled. “No, I...I thought I knew him, but it’s impossible. The man he looks like is dead.”

 

“Is he now?” Angelus took a step closer. “And what was his name, then?”

 

“H...Harper. William Harper.”

 

“Fine. And I’ll be needin’ his address.”

 

Angelus headed towards the Harper home, licking the blood from his teeth.

 

PRESENT

 

“What are you doing here, Mother? How did you find me?”

 

“Find you? You thought I was looking for you?” She shrugged. “All right. I was. Drusilla found me in Naples and told me about you. A Slayer, son. What were you thinking? Bad enough love, and a human, but the Slayer.” Her face fell as she contemplated him. “Oh, son, and a soul. Bad form.”

 

He fought back the tears. “I want you to leave, Mother. Leave Sunnydale. Leave the United States. I can’t protect you here.”

 

She threw back her head and laughed. “You? Protect me? The day I need protection by my little whelp of a son, is the day that I take a nice, long sunbath.” She patted his cheek. “Good to see you, William. I’m going to walk away now, and you aren’t going to try to stop me. If you do, Mommy has a nasty surprise in store.”

 

He watched her walk back into the shadows, his hand massaging the unused stake in his pocket.

 

PAST

 

He watched the house. More posh than he expected. The boy obviously came from money. Maybe he could use that. There was a light on upstairs, probably in the servants’ quarters. Might be too late tonight for any fun.

 

But a hansom pulled up in front, and a woman stepped out. She was short, plump, wearing widow’s weeds. As the cab pulled away he could see the resemblance. Had to be his mother.

 

Turning to walk up her steps, she dropped a parcel. He was beside her like a shot, picking it up off the ground. “Here ya go, miss,” he said, smiling down at her. She must have been very pretty, once. Now she looked tired, worry and pain etching lines around her eyes and mouth.

 

“Thank you, young man. You’re very kind.” She wasn’t in the habit of talking to strange men, but it had been so long since one so handsome had held her gaze. “I must be going, Mr.-”

 

“Call me William.”

 

Her eyes misted with tears. “My son’s name was William.”

 

“Was?” Angelus’ voice dripped with concern.

 

“He...he passed away recently.”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. The loss of a small child is a painful, painful thing.”

 

“My son was not a child, sir. He was a full grown man.”

 

Angelus looked at her with feigned shock. “Oh,” he exclaimed. “That hardly seems possible.”

 

The woman blushed. Despite herself, a hint of a smile haunted the corners of her mouth. “Quite possible, I assure you.” She looked toward her door. “I know this is irregular, sir, but would you care to join me for a cup of tea? You’ve been so kind.”

 

“Now, now, that’s good a you to say, but I’d hate to compromise the reputation of a lovely thing such as yourself. I’ll not come into your home, but would you do me the honor of joinin’ me for supper tomorrow night? I’m new to London, and I know so few people. I could pick you up here at seven.”

 

The woman considered. Then she smiled. “I’d be pleased to.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Until tomorrow, then.”

 

PRESENT

 

“Spike, there you are,” Buffy called out, as she walked down the main street towards home. “Where were you tonight? I thought we were going to patrol together. And when did you start smoking again?”

 

He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe. “Sorry,” he muttered, keeping his face down and in the shadows.

 

“Spike?” She came closer, tilting up his head, and saw the tears in his eyes. “Oh, honey, what happened? What’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t talk about it, Buffy. Please don’t ask.” He turned and stalked down the street.

 

“Baby? Spike?” But he ignored her as he disappeared into the night. “Damn. What the hell’s going on?”

 

PAST

 

He took her to a charming, quiet restaurant. He smiled at the appropriate moments, commiserated with her loss when it seemed appropriate, and generally had a delicious time. It was almost too easy.

 

Each night, when he took her home, she asked him in, and each time he declined. After their fourth dinner date he reluctantly acquiesced. She had sent the servants out for the night. Such a lonely thing she was.

 

He knew full well she had never done anything like this before. All through her marriage, and her widowhood, she had been the very soul of propriety. She had been such a good example for her poor young boy. But now, stricken with grief and desperate with pain and desire, she gasped as he undid the front of her dress. Yes, almost too easy.

 

Angelus took her in her bed, in the home she had recently shared with her son. She lay spent in his arms. “I love you, William. I think you’re wonderful.”

 

“Ah,” he replied. “Do ya now?” He climbed out from under the sheets, laughing. “And I think you’re a fat old harpy who wouldn’t know how to please a man if he drew you illustrations.”

 

“What? I...I don’t understand.”

 

“Oh, surely you do, ya old cow. You’re only good for one thing, and sex isn’t it.” He threw on his game face. “Only one thing.” He sank his teeth into her throat amidst her shrieks and sobs.

 

 

She woke in a tight oak box, with only two things in her mind. Hunger, and revenge.

 

 

Angelus and his little family had already moved on to Yorkshire.

 

PRESENT

 

Buffy burst through the door of her house. Dawn was lying on the couch, watching ‘Off Beat Cinema’ on cable. “Did Spike come home?” she demanded.

 

“What?” Dawn pulled her eyes away from ‘Nosferatu’ and looked at her sister. “No. Didn’t he catch up with you?”

 

“Not exactly.” She shoved her sister’s feet off the sofa to make room for herself and slumped back. “Something’s wrong. Did he say anything, before he went out?”

 

“Nope.” Dawn reached under the coffee table and pulled out the newspaper. “But I think he might have been reading this article. Something spooked him.”

 

Buffy flipped on the light and read the account of the murder. “Humpt. Looks like there’s a new Big Bad in Sunnydale.” She rubbed her forehead. “Now, what the hell does it have to do with Spike?”

 

PAST

 

Spike lounged in his chair in the little cafe, as Dru commented on the Romans walking by. “Oh, she’s a nice one. Tasty and fine, and full of sparkles.”

 

“Sparkles, love?”

 

“She makes my head dance. Ooooh, and him. He has an invitation to the opera, but the Valkyries will not sing for him.” She ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “If you do this, just so, the planets hum together.”

 

“Yeah,” he threw back the wine, wishing for something headier, “I’ve heard that.”

 

A woman at the next table leaned over her shoulder and said, “That makes absolutely no sense. How do you put up with it?”

 

“None a your business. Why don’t you...” Spike’s heart couldn’t stop beating, but it tried. “Mother?”

 

“Oooooh,” Dru clapped her hands. “This is mommy. She shall tell you fairy tales, and pat your little head, and whisper words to keep you in the nighttime.”

 

“Shut up, Dru.” His lover pouted, but his eyes were fixated on the older woman at the next table. “It’s not possible. How could you...”

 

“I’ve been following your exploits, son. William the Bloody. Fine name. But Spike? You’re grandfather’s name wasn’t good enough for you? And where did you acquire that horrendous dialect? Certainly not at Cambridge.” She smiled, a feline smile. “As to how I could be here,” she shifted in and out of her vampire visage, “I thought you could figure that out as well as anyone.”

 

Spike gripped his wineglass so tight it shattered in his hand. “Who did this to you?”

 

“The question, dear boy, is why didn’t you? So much strength; so much power. Immortality. Though I would have liked to have turned a little younger; eternal youth is so much more appealing than eternal matronliness.” Her tongue flicked across her teeth. “Though it does make for more trusting victims. I’m everyone’s dear old mom.”

 

Dru rose from her seat and went to the middle-aged vampire. “You’re a sweet mommy. You like to take their hearts and eat them like candy. So delicious.”

 

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Harper patted Dru’s hand. “She’s lovely, William. Definitely a keeper.”

 

Drusilla failed to hear the derision in the vampire’s tone, and beamed. “I like your mommy,” she cooed to Spike.

 

“I asked you, mother. Who did this to you?” His voice was cold and fierce.

 

“Why, son. It was William.” With a laugh, and a speed belying her appearance, she was gone.

 

PRESENT

 

Spike leaned forward against his old crypt, his hand pressed against the cold marble. This was all he was, all he deserved. Death and mausoleums, not a suburban home with a happy family. The soul didn’t change who he was. What he was. Evil bred of evil. She was his fault. He hadn’t been the one to change her, but she had become what she was because of him just the same.

 

The hand on his shoulder was warm, familiar. “What’s wrong, Spike. Tell me.”

 

“I can’t Buffy. It hurts too much.”

 

“Touching.” The voice came from the night. “She seems a tad more coherent than the other one, but the humanity disgusts me.”

 

Spike’s voice was urgent. “Go, Buffy.”

 

The creature’s face came out of the darkness, furrowed brow and flaming eyes. “Oh, no. Stay, Buffy. He won’t let you kill me, will you son?”

 

“Son?” Buffy looked back and forth, from Spike to the creature. “What is she talking about?” From the sicken look on Spike’s face, she knew. “My god! She’s your mother. And she’s the one who’s been killing all those men named William.” She turned to the little vampire. “How sick is that?”

 

“Son,” his mother said, ignoring Buffy, “is it true that Slayer blood is as sweet as they say? You should know. Though” she bared her fangs, “I would love to find out for myself.”

 

“Leave her alone.” His voice was angry as he stepped from around the back of the crypt. “You don’t want her, or him. You want me.”

 

“William,” she shrieked as she ran towards him, eyes wide and wild, extending fangs and nails. She was so intent, she didn’t see the stake in his hand until it was already in her chest, as she exploded in a shriek of dust.

 

Spike clutched at the remnants, crying, “Mother,” as he sank to the ground.

 

Buffy stared at the familiar figure. “Angel. What are you doing here?”

 

“Cleaning up my mess.”

 

Spike looked up through his tears. “She called you William.”

 

“It’s how she knew me.” He balanced the stake in his hand. “Of all the things I regret, Mary was one of the worst.” He handed the stake to Buffy. “If you want to use this, I won’t stop you.”

 

She looked down at her lover, convulsed with grief. She threw the stake at the other vampire’s feet. “Go home, Angel.” She knelt beside Spike, cradling him in her arms, as he sobbed into her chest.

 

 

Spike lay beside Buffy in her mother’s old bed. “We’re both orphans now,” she said to him.

 

He smiled at that. “Your father’s alive, love, last I heard.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” She draped her arms over his body. “I forgot.”

 

“All these years,” he sighed. “All these years I knew what she was, and it shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I was evil. Why did I care?”

 

She kissed his cheek. “Because she was your mother.”

 

“All those years I thought it was about me, and it was about him.”

 

She propped herself on one elbow. “What are you going to do about Angel?”

 

“Nothing.” He looked into her sweet face. “He was a sick bastard, but he knows it. He did as bad, or worse, to his own family. And she’ll haunt him as long as he exists.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Sure, I’d like to rip off his head and use it for a paperweight, but it wouldn’t change anything, would it?”

 

“I guess not.” Her brow crinkled in concentration. “If you ripped off his head, wouldn’t he go all dusty?”

 

“I love you, Slayer.” He pulled her back into an embrace. “You and Dawn, you’re all the family I need.”

 

“Good.” She nestled against him as they fell asleep.

 

In his dreams, his mother sang him lullabies, dried his tears, and loved him.


End file.
